


Confessions of the Lovelorn

by ineedabetterhaircut



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is an idiot, Fluff, Gwaine is the worst, Gwen is a saint, Kinda Cracky, M/M, chicken shenanigans, here have some gayyyyyy, magic known, with a tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedabetterhaircut/pseuds/ineedabetterhaircut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur gets very, very drunk, steals a chicken, sprains his ankle, wakes up hungover, and has an epiphany. But not necessarily in that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of the Lovelorn

Arthur’s eyes were heavy and his tongue dry in his mouth when he blinked awake, looking up at an incredibly unamused Merlin. He shook his head, and the action made Arthur feel vaguely sick. His brain felt sluggish, and so it took him a full minute to process that Merlin was speaking. Why could he not remember a thing from the previous night? 

“-you bloody git. I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and I’m not exaggerating when I say everywhere. I’ve spent all night scouring every pub and alleyway, and when I was about to give up I thought to myself ‘if I were a moody king trying to escape my romantic obligations, where would I cower?’, and I realized that it was so obvious, you were-” and oh good god, Arthur had a headache. He had a great big headache and he couldn’t feel his toes and somehow, he had procured a chicken. An annoying chicken that squirmed in his arms and squawked directly in his ear, not unlike Merlin some mornings and- “Are you even listening to me? You’re not, are you? You’re never listening to me, you great oaf, and that’s why Gwen’s angry, and I mean, who wouldn’t be? If you think running away is going to solve your problems, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I first thought-”

“Dear god, please just shut up. I’ve got a headache that’s grown even more painful whilst you’ve been berating my idiocy, and the longer you prattle on about this and that, the closer I come to strangling you with my bare hands,” Arthur groused, practically throwing the squabbling chicken in his hands to the ground with a muttered “demon bird” and using the wall that he had been slumped against to push himself up. Standing in fact made his head hurt more, and when he tried to take a step he cried out in pain, his right ankle giving out. Merlin was at his side in an instant, a gangly arm around his waist and his solid, almost supernatural warmth comforting in a way that made Arthur’s skin itch. He almost wanted to get away from Merlin, because being this close to Merlin was a little torturous in the state Arthur was in, hungover and desperate for some breakfast. As it was, Arthur wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he could walk by himself with his ankle the way it was; he chanced a look at it and winced. It was swollen and purpling quickly, and Arthur for the life of him could not remember how he had acquired this wound. 

“Oh no, nope, no, don’t even think about it. I know that face, and I am telling you right now that you’re in no state to be walking on your own.” Arthur just rolled his eyes. “Come on, let’s get you back to the castle,” Merlin said, his tone annoyed but his eyes fond. Arthur looked away, slinging an arm around his shoulders and letting himself be dragged in an awkward half shuffle while he contemplated. The chicken, who Arthur swore up and down he had thrown somewhere, was following them. He scowled at it. Merlin was mumbling under his breath as they trudged along, and Arthur felt the ache in his ankle already fading to something bearable. Said ankle caught on an uneven cobblestone, rousing a loud groan from Arthur’s lips. Merlin looked up, obviously startled, his deep blue eyes ringed with a flash of gold. Arthur made a pitiful noise in response; Merlin’s magic greatly affected him, drawing warmth into his stomach and causing his pulse to rattle in his ribcage. “Y’know, you could be actually helping me. That would greatly speed up the proceedings,” Merlin whined, hitching Arthur up against his side. 

“You could stop complaining. I’m sure that would greatly speed up the proceedings,” Arthur mocked, elbowing Merlin in the side (more lightly than he meant to, making it more of a flirtatious shove than anything, but oh well). Merlin grinned, catching Arthur completely by surprise; normally, he would have shoved him back or complained, and yet today he merely smiled, gently pinching Arthur’s side. Suddenly, Arthur remembered something from the night before, a little scrap of memory. Something about, sonnets? And Merlin’s eyes, and the flash of a grin over a mug of ale. A familiar grin, though Arthur couldn’t place it. Not until they were trudging through the castle grounds and Gwaine came bounding up, a too-bright grin on his face when he saw Arthur. Arthur bemoaned his fate. 

“I’ll take him from here, Merlin,” Gwaine said innocently, smile wide and sunny. Merlin looked back and forth between them, Arthur glaring darkly and Gwaine beaming, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you certain? He’s quite crabby this morning.” 

“Oi!” Arthur elbowed Merlin again, not so lightly this time. Merlin relinquished his grip on him with an “oof” and backed away (which was exactly the opposite of what Arthur wanted, come to think of it), and Arthur had barely a moment to mourn the loss of his warmth when Gwaine was swooping in with a triumphant look on his face. 

“Oh, I assure you my friend, it’s no trouble at all. Besides, you look as if you haven’t slept a wink.” A pulse of guilt churned through Arthur at Merlin’s weary nod, darkness smudged under each eye. It made him want to do something terribly irrational, like tuck Merlin into his bed and never let him leave. Arthur squirmed, trying to kick at Gwaine with his good foot, but he held on with resilience. Merlin smiled at Gwaine, touching his arm and softly thanking him (Arthur tried his hardest not to flinch, but he wasn’t entirely successful). He shot Arthur a look before trudging towards the castle, and Arthur just watched him go, feeling somewhat defeated. Like there was something missing. “Wait ‘till I tell you what happened at the pub last night,” Gwaine chuckled, as if sensing Arthur’s confusion. Arthur just groaned in response. 

***

“Have you suffered brain damage?” was the first thing Arthur said after Gwaine had spent a full twenty minutes regaling him with tales of the night before. According to Gwaine, Arthur had burst into the pub, half drunk and morose, and started drinking. After nearly seven drinks, he laid himself over Gwaine and began composing poems about Merlin’s eyes, of all things. Long winded, excruciatingly embarrassing sonnets speaking of blue skies and the sea. Arthur was still flushed red from having learned that he had at one point described them as “magical glittering orbs”. Gwaine just laughed in his face. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t from the amount of times you fell yesterday, my lord,” he guffawed, his laughter increasing at Arthur’s incensed glare. “Quite honestly, it’s probably a good thing that Merlin couldn’t find you until this morning. Something tells me it would have been very awkward for both of you.” He smirked knowingly in response to Arthur’s angry splutters.

“You imbecile- do you at least know how I sprained my ankle or why this bloody chicken has been following me around all day?” The chicken, who had made itself at home in Arthur’s bathtub, lifted it’s head and squawked, almost as if it understood what Arthur was saying. He glared at it and it glared back.

“Are you engaging in a staring match with a chicken?” Gwaine asked, barely suppressing a grin. Arthur muttered, scratching at his head. “Well my friend, I wish I could tell you about the chicken, but I do believe I know what happened to your ankle. You see, during one of your lengthy poems about Merlin, you were so immersed that you got up onto a table and, well… You said you were fine?” There was a question in there, and Arthur rolled his eyes. “If I thought you were actually injured, I would’ve helped you!” he insisted, and Arthur only sort of believed him. 

“Did I leave? Well, I must have left, obviously, but which direction did I go?” Arthur grasped Gwaine’s shirt sleeve, nearly desperate at this point, because he just wanted to figure everything out and go home. Maybe sleep for the next century. 

“You said, er, something about an ele- epo- epi-”

“An epiphany? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Gwaine’s face brightened.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the word! Anyway, you had a… that thing, and then you started going on about Gwen and how you had to talk to her, she would know what to do, you said. And then you were off,” he finished, shrugging at Arthur’s bewildered glance. The chicken let out another unruly squawk, unpleasantly jarring Arthur’s thinking. Gwen was the person he had been avoiding; they had fought horribly over… over something rather important. His brain helpfully supplied images of arguing, crying, drinking until his lips were numb and he could almost forget why he had started drinking in the first place. Why would he want to speak to Gwen, of all people? 

“No matter, I must go to her straight away. Obviously she knows something, she must.” Arthur knew he sounded uneasy, even to his own ears. Gwaine gave him a look of deep sympathy when he tried to stand from his bed, immediately falling back in pain and clutching at his ankle. 

“Are you in need of assistance, sire?” Gwaine asked, looking genuine in his asking. Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded. “Well c’mon then, let’s find out all that you got up to last night.”

***

Gwen raised an eyebrow when she pulled open her door to find Arthur. She looked down at the chicken in his arms and raised the other brow. Her body was tense with caution, he could see that, and when he looked at her, he felt nothing but guilt. Gwaine, sensing that there was something off, backed away slowly. He had been of great assistance, though Arthur’s ankle had gotten incrementally better and better as the day wore on. Halfway to Gwen’s, he had stopped needing to lean on Gwaine, had started walking quite well on his own. Merlin’s eyes shining gold flashed in his mind. He shook himself.

“Thank you for helping him here, Gwaine,” Gwen said kindly. Gwaine tilted his head graciously, leaving them to stare at each other. “Though, I wonder, why has my king decided to return after spending the night? At least, I believed you to spend the night, until I went to check on you this morning and you were gone, only an open window in your place.” She gave him a beseeching look, puzzlement clear in the lines of her face, and Arthur hated himself a little for doing this to her. His Gwen, strong and beautiful, but she wasn’t really his, was she? Almost as if she could sense his thoughts, her brows furrowed. “You should come inside. By the look on your face, you’ve forgotten what we talked about last night. Come, come,” she spoke softly, helping Arthur limp through her little cottage until they were settled on her makeshift bed, pointedly not touching. The silence was long, stretching past the point of comfort, which was ridiculous because they had been lovers. Had. Arthur ached at the past tense; he hadn’t meant for it to end this way, had wanted so desperately to marry Gwen, had plans. Had. It was sharp, more painful at the earnest look in Gwen’s eyes when she turned to look at him. 

“Gwen, I-”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she hurried over him, her eyes wide as she muttered a quick “my liege,” after. But Arthur wasn’t angry in the slightest. He had gotten so used to Merlin’s informal treatment of him that he barely reacted if someone forgot to address him properly, or if one of his stable boys shared an inappropriate joke with him. Arthur was surprised at how unsurprised he was; Merlin had completely changed him, in ways that he had yet to fully explore. His thoughts flew swiftly from his mind at Gwen’s gentle hand on his forearm, an imploring expression on her face. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, really. I was the one who dragged everything out, made it so long and laborious, and for that I am deeply sorry. I suppose I was in… denial, yes. Denial is the correct word. I still love you Arthur, but I can see that your heart yearns for another.” Those words brought more flashes of memories to Arthur’s consciousness; images of him stumbling onto her little bed with the chicken in hand, panicked over his feelings, of all things, and fervently apologizing again and again. He suddenly was accosted with a strong urge to vomit, remembering his silent tears and confessing to Gwen all his longings. Telling her of his epiphany that had struck him after his fall from the pub table, that he was hopelessly, madly, in love with-

“Merlin,” the name was gasped from his mouth, almost involuntarily. Gwen nodded, her expression solemn, yet her eyes far happier than he had seen them in a long while. “I- My god, it’s taken me ages to figure that out.” Gwen laughed, squeezing his forearm before retracting her hand. 

“I always had my suspicions, even when we were together. Arthur, I know we love each other, but what you and Merlin have is a bond like no other. I truly believe that, and I want you to know that I am neither bitter nor angry with you. Just- go to him already,” she smiled encouragingly, shoving at his shoulders. He grumbled but it was in good nature, for he knew she was right. He hobbled to the door, stopping at it’s entrance.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same? What then?” Arthur looked at Gwen, almost pleadingly, because he was completely lost when it came to confessing his love to his gangly, wonderful, sorcerer man servant. He was quite certain that he had lost his mind. Gwen huffed, rolling her eyes in a rare display of sarcasm.

“Ridiculous. Everyone knows that Merlin’s in love with you. Well, everyone except you, it seems,” she said with a smile. He scowled at her, but this only caused her grin to widen; the action reminded him of Merlin in a way that made his heart ache. He had officially gone insane. 

“... I suppose I have to go and tell him then?” He gingerly stepped with his bad ankle, relieved to find that the once fiery pain had subsided almost completely, and that the swelling had already gone down enough for him to walk. He smiled, wide and unable to stop. He loved Merlin’s magic. And Merlin. He smiled even wider. Gwen scoffed, pushing him through the door.

“You are absolutely mad, Arthur Pendragon. You would gladly fight evil witches and fire breathing dragons before telling Merlin how you feel.” Arthur could feel her shaking her head at him as he walked up the street, turning around to find her smiling at him like she couldn’t quite believe that he was real. He gave her a bright grin in return; he was so happy in that moment that even the sight of the demon chicken, squawking petulantly at his feet, made him think of Merlin and laugh. Absolutely ridiculous.

***

When Arthur finally found Merlin, he was sleeping under a tree on the castle grounds, a book of magic perched on his chest. He watched him for perhaps a moment too long, but sleepy Merlin was absolutely adorable; he looked years younger when he slept, and Arthur manfully fought the urge to sweep his unruly hair out of his face. Instead, he settled down next to him, taking his book and closing it before setting it to the side. He finally gave in to the itch to run his fingers through Merlin’s sleep mussed hair, face heating up at the little purr that unconsciously slipped out of Merlin’s mouth. He almost wanted Merlin to stay asleep, because while there was a part of him who wished greatly to be able to touch Merlin in anyway he so pleased, there was another tiny, little part of him that was, maybe, afraid. Afraid that Merlin wouldn’t accept his love, or that he would object to Arthur’s possessiveness (because he was very, very possessive), or even that he would see Arthur’s darkest faults and become wary of him. His hand tightened in his hair, rousing Merlin. He blinked, eyes impossibly large and blue. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. Merlin’s lips pursed in confusion, and he hastily retracted his hand. 

“Arthur?” 

“Mm?” he hummed, busying himself with playing with his dagger. Merlin rolled his eyes, grabbing his book and starting to get up; Arthur clamped a hand on his forearm forcefully. 

“Wha-”

“Can you just… stay a moment?” At Merlin’s bewildered look, Arthur growled in frustration. “I- this is incredibly difficult for me, you must understand, I… feelings are something that, er, I struggle with-” he cut himself off with another frustrated noise, running his hand through his hair. He looked up to see Merlin grinning at him, and, with the sun hitting his face, he had never looked more beautiful. Arthur looked away before he could do something rash, like take his face in his hands and kiss him senseless. “Stop laughing at me,” he mumbled, knowing he sounded childish but not caring one bit. 

“M’not laughing, I promise.” Merlin took Arthur’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He stared at Arthur, and Arthur couldn’t look away from those eyes, not even for a second. He squeezed his hand.

“You have no idea what you do to me, I- it’s torturous, truly-”

“Arthur, I know that I make your life miserable, you don’t need to tell me-”

“Shut up, will you? If it hasn’t been made clear before, I’m stupidly in love with you. It’s ridiculous, really, considering your ears and your fingers incessantly tapping and the fact that you never stop talking.” Merlin was beaming now, and it transformed his entire face, leaving Arthur completely helpless. “And, if y-you would allow me to, I would very much like to kiss you, er, amongst other things. I just- I want you by my side, Merlin. Forever, or, as long as you want, really, I’ve no preference-” Merlin’s lips, dry and warm, were on his, stopping his frankly embarrassing rambling and pretty much all of his neural function. The kiss was over almost as soon as it had begun, leaving Arthur gritting his teeth. He fisted a hand in Merlin’s tunic, dragging him down for another kiss, until the sounds of the castle staff around them faded into nothing, Merlin’s lips and his small noises being the only things that kept Arthur grounded. 

“Arthur-” Merlin broke the kiss for a moment, looking as though he wanted to say something. He was coherent, and that wouldn’t do at all; Arthur dove back in, sucking at his tongue and cupping his chin hard enough to bruise. Merlin moaned, blushing prettily, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Arthur decided that he liked this more than anything, and was determined to make it happen again. Merlin broke away, panting against Arthur’s chin. “Arthur, someone could see us-” Merlin protested weakly, half-hard and shiny with sweat. Arthur grinned against his lips, turning his head to lick along his jaw. He clamped down, licking at the bite and feeling Merlin convulse underneath him. 

“I suppose we better go up to my chambers, then? I want to be able to thoroughly enjoy this, explore you, map your body with my tongue like I’ve been wanting to-” Merlin whimpered. “- you’re gorgeous, Merlin, and you’re mine.”

“Yours, always,” Merlin whispered, hot breath blowing over Arthur’s face. Arthur shivered, tendrils of happiness and arousal skittering down his spine. He gripped Merlin’s hand, tugging him up. When they locked gazes, Merlin’s eyes burned golden; Arthur’s grip tightened. He was so unbelievably happy, he was almost dizzy with it. Merlin was his. Merlin wanted to be his. The notion was more satisfying than any hunt he had ever been on, liberated him more than any joust or sword fight ever had, and he wanted more. He wanted everything. Looking into Merlin’s eyes, trusting and so wonderfully sincere, he knew he would get exactly that. “By the way, er, why’s that chicken still following you?” Merlin breathed against his neck, distracting him almost enough to not hear the question. Arthur turned around, seeing the chicken hobbling along after them. He laughed.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out… How do you feel about having a pet chicken?”

**Author's Note:**

> LET THE RECORD STATE THAT THIS IS KINDA CRACKY AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY! Okay so I was trying to write the sequel to Easy as Pie, got writer's block, started watching Merlin again (oh joy), and wrote this... I'll let myself out......


End file.
